My First

My lucky friend with dirty socks, Deb, is all alone this weekend with her calm adorable child and needs some entertainment. So she is asking for reading material in the form of our first post, mainly so she can ridicule and laugh at our lameness so she can pass the time and not miss her husband who should at least put the damn glass in her cabinet for leaving her alone on V Day. So, because I am such a great friend and love her so much not to mention the fact she is paying me 20 bucks, I am offering myself up on a silver plated platter and totally exposing myself.

I think I originally had 2 comments. I also told way too much mundane info, thinking my sister, Amy, would be the only person that would ever read it. These days I just post way too much mundane info so you all can read it and feel better about yourselves.

This post was originally written on July 16, 2008. Actually it wasn't my very first. That one was very short and meaningless, not unlike my OTHER first.

Drum roll, please...

I will begin my blog life with a little H&P (that's history and physical for all my non-medical peeps).


I am the oldest of 4 girls, (hence the control & peace-maker issues I have) born and raised in a small town in the panhandle of TX. We are a freakishly close-knit family, all up in each other's biznez, and have had some major changes over the last 3 yrs. in chronological order:

First: Sister #3 (I am #1), who, for some ungodly reason has always proudly labeled herself "the black sheep of the family,"decided that after having 4 kids, she was done being a mom, and gave them all away. I mean she didn't like set up a lemonade stand and sit on a neighborhood corner and give them away as a door prize with a large glass, but called our mom, that I will call Big Mama, to come get them.

I would go into a thirty minute dissertation trying to explain away the turmoil her THIRD divorce must have put her thru, but bottom line: drugs+alcohol+kids=no fun. So she did what every responsible alcoholic junkie would do and stopped. Being a mom, that is.

So, embittered as I may sound, I have come to accept that the upper-class-cush life she had as a child with loving parents and very cute sisters could not compare with the roach-infested hole she can now call home. I am raising her 2nd oldest, 15 yr old daughter, B, now going on 3 years. The others are with their bio. fathers. The oldest, that lived with my mom moved out on her own.

Second major change: This past Jan 5th, my daddy passed away with a sudden heart attack. We are still reeling with the devastation. He was the funniest man I have ever known and you will see many of his famous sayings thrown into all my stories. I miss him so incredibly much and have moments of hysterical laughter talking about him that sometimes end in a sobfest. But it's good.

So Big Mama, Amy(#2), and Erin(#4) and myself are all trying to live each other's lives and tell each other other what to do without two main components in the equation.

That's the History 1 Part. Stay tuned for History 2. I promise even more humor-laced bitterness as I tell you about my ex....Here's a teaser....

preacher/glass houses/rocks 'Nuff said. For today......this blogging stuff is exhausting.

Alright, I know you are chomping at the bit and are dying to know exactly what Part 2 says, so I will put it here for you. Divert your eyes if you are feeling nauseous, bored, or could not care less.

OK in a nutshell: Married for 10 years and spouse decides to become a preacher. ( Yes, I was voted most unlikely to become a preacher's wife in high school) Moves us 400 miles south to the middle of nowhere and in the middle of my third semester of RN school decides he doesn't want to married to me anymore.

OOOKEEEE.

Now for the good stuff: the products of the 19 yrs: Kalee, the oldest and the original Diva; John David, who is undoubtedly the most laid back human alive; and Trevor, the Original Baby. We adopted Claire and her brother Cooper when they were 17 months and 5 weeks respectively.

Then there were 5...

I met the right Mr. while I was taking care of his ill father in the hospital during my fun-filled divorce. He asked me out for coffee (which everyone knows flows rampantly on the med/surg floor of the hospital and was a pretty lame pick up line all in all). So, totally liquored-up on 18 cups of full-strength Folger's, I said in my outside voice, "I have FIVE kids." There, I said it. Run, boy, run. "Yes, I know," he responded oh-so-gaggingly-sweet.

Sooo, 10 months later, all 6 of us married him.

Then we all went on our honeymoon to Breckenridge to ski. Except me. I mean I went, but I didn't (and don't) ski. I instead studied for the f'n boards like the good little graduate nurse I was. Then I got trashed and the Mr. and I snuck out and stayed in the next door neighbor's cabin after they told us they were leaving early to beat the snow storm that was rolling in.

It was wickedly fun (and loud). We snuck back before sunrise (mainly because I woke up panicking that the maid might come to clean the "empty" cabin at 5am and catch us there) and all 8 were none the wiser that we were rockin' the cabin next door. HA! SUCKAS!!

I had finally found The One that was totally and completely in love with me and thought I was the f'n BOMB.

Life is good...